


The Perfect Cosmopolitan

by zombified_queer



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Drunken Escapades, there's only one bed, they're roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 19:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: Kamal and Wallus get drunk and talk about relationships.





	The Perfect Cosmopolitan

Kamal was grateful he'd spent that time in college hooking up with the bartender in his friend group as he shook himself another cosmopolitan. Wallus took another swig straight from the bottle of vodka. Kamal cringed.

Pouring the cosmo into his glass, Kamal studied Wallus. He was so handsome Kamal's chest ached. There was that jawline Kamal adored, just the faintest trace of stubble. And something about Wallus' eyes always drew him in, made him feel charmed even when Wallus looked like the world was ending and he was dying of a broken heart. 

Wallus sniffled.

"Wallus?" Kamal raised his glass to his lips. Perfect. He silently thanked that bartender again, the phantom hands guiding Kamal into making cosmos. "Are you okay?"

"I have this friend," Wallus drawled, swirling the vodka around the bottle, "and he's so fucking nice."

"Oh." Kamal wondered who this friend was. Wallus didn't seem an extrovert. But then Kamal reminded himself that just because they shared an apartment didn't mean they shared everything. "Well, uhm, you deserve people being nice to you."

Kamal took another sip. Maybe he'd put a bit too much vodka in this one. He watched Wallus take another pull of vodka. And the thought crossed Kamal's mind that since they were technically sharing that bottle, that meant every cosmo he'd been mixing throughout the night was kind of like some indirect kiss.

He felt his face heat up and drained his glass too quickly. And that made his face heat up faster.

"He's so nice, Kamal," Wallus mumbled, wiping his face. "He's so handsome too. I don't think you'd understand."

Oh. So Wallus did swing that way too. Kamal nodded, mumbled something in agreement, and searched their tiny kitchen for anything else to drink that wasn't vodka. 

A half-empty bottle of pink Moscato and a pint of Jack Daniels and some cans of Coke. Kamal opted for the wine, pouring it into his glass. Sweet and delightfully cold.

"I just love him so much, Kamal. Like, how do you tell someone you wake up to that you love them without it being awkward?" 

Kamal almost choked on his wine. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd woken up without Wallus curled up next to him. Were they just a fling? Or were they serious and Wallus was just really good at the walk of shame?

But wouldn't Wallus' heavy steps wake him up if Wallus was coming back at two in the morning? 

Kamal drank his wine and his jealousy.

Wallus reached out, paused, then dropped his large hand at his side. "Kamal..."

"Wallus." Kamal raised a brow. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"Have you ever been in love with someone who doesn't love you back?"

"Yeah." Twice, if he was honest, but the first time didn't really count. Could he show his face in that neighbourhood again without being teased about being a sugar baby? He hoped so. "I have, Wallus."

Wallus' hand engulfed the left side of Kamal's face, so careful in the way he held Kamal. "You should be loved, Kamal. You deserve so much love."

Kamal tried not to let his panic show. "Hey, Wallus, let's go sit down."

Wallus nodded, slow and so sleepy. He clung to the bottle of vodka as he lumbered into the living room. 

Kamal finished the rest of the Moscato, which had warmed a bit during their drunken conversation. He was going to regret so many things tomorrow. He hoped he'd remembered to pick up more aspirin the last time he'd gone shopping.

When he entered the living room, Kamal did not expect to find Wallus on the floor, leaned against the couch, chugging vodka. It took some talent to cry and drink vodka.

Kamal wondered, as he sunk down on the couch, how much vodka it would take to get Wallus dangerously drunk. Maybe they'd passed that limit when Wallus started crying.

Gently, Kamal ran his fingers through Wallus' hair. It was so long, so smooth. Kamal loved the way it flowed, always fluid, over Wallus' shoulders. It wasn't until Wallus tilted his head back in Kamal's lap that he realized Wallus had even moved.

"You're really drunk," Kamal said, wiping Wallus' tears away. "Like, so smashed."

"Kamal?"

"Hmm?"

Whatever Wallus said, Kamal didn't hear. He was too busy leaning down to kiss Wallus. He tasted like vodka and, under that, mints. It seemed perfect. Wallus' lips were chapped, but Kamal didn't mind in the slightest. Every time Kamal pulled back, Wallus leaned up. 

At some point, they both decided this was impractical and Kamal ended up on the floor, in Wallus' lap. 

At some point, Kamal drank straight from the bottle after Wallus and remembered he thought it was like an indirect kiss, which was nothing compared to actually kissing him.

At some point, things got too hazy to remember except for the feel of Wallus' mouth and the taste of vodka and mints.

* * *

Kamal woke up with a splitting headache and groaned at the alarm shrieking at him. He tried to reach for it, but realized, in increments, he was being held. The body against him was warm, breathing, and dead to the blaring alarm. 

Kamal twisted and, with the grace of a drunk tomcat, managed to turn the alarm off. No snooze. Just off. He settled back into the arms wrapped around him. refusing to acknowledge the sun.

"Kamal?"

Oh. Wallus. So they'd stayed in for the night? Made sense. Kamal thought they'd both gotten too drunk to drive anywhere. It was a good sign.

And he was dressed, unlike that time they'd gone out with Questionette and at some point, he'd ended up in Wallus's shirt, in Questionette's car, on the outskirts of town with no idea how he'd gotten there or why Questionette was holding what looked like a half-finished love-letter (to Boris, of all people) hostage. 

It was a good thing, to wake up in his own bed, in his own clothes for once.

"Hmm?"

"I meant what I said last night."

Kamal made some thoughtful noise. "About being in love with someone who doesn't love you?"

Nothing. The hold on Kamal slackened. Kamal groaned, wanting to stay in that warm space, and inched closer.

"Sure," Wallus said slowly. His voice sounded thick, like someone after crying. "Being in love with someone who doesn't love you."


End file.
